Edges, Guerrillas, Things I See When You Smile
by SweetG
Summary: He lets curiosity get the best of him and procceeds to unfold one of the paper balls -a deep purple one that seems to be a crown to the whole arrangement-. It holds the following words: absence deterrent anxiety craving useless. This is not helping.


_**(:::...:::**_

Arousal meets liking someone else's personality for the first time when Kurt Hummel successfully manages to kick a winning field goal for them while dancing to that sexy chick's song on a field full of burly guys (that could smash his skull into dust) with tolerance issues the size of Coach Tanaka's ass.

_**:::...:::)**_

Even though he had noticed him before; because who didn't, really? He had the loudest presence he'd ever seen, even louder than Rachel's, in a less abhorrent way.

Now he just couldn't keep him out of his consciousness

It was so distracting that even Glee started taking new meanings for him.

_The gyrating hips look like something taken out of a perfect piece of art. Nothing mundane, nothing displaced; __everything__ on display. Everything moving, rotating, undulating. Perfect, unshakable, and closer to public indecency than need be._

_Dancing through life, like breathing. An assortment of clashing rhythms, and the unstopabble beat of a mute song that plays ad infinitum through every open window and door. Music like liquid existence, like the root of everything else. Good and bad._

_Kurt dances the same way he does everything else. Passionately. Never by halves. __He dances like it's going out of fashion; all fiery movements, delighted mouth curls, and exertion flushing his skin in uneven splotches that paint him real._

_Unkempt is a good look on him._

_**:::...:::**_

He goes to the soon to be home of the soon-to-be Hummel Hudson family to hang out with Finn. Only, Finn ends up leaving him for Rachel, because she's managed to get a panic attack out of thinking about a sore throat for too long, and Finn needs to _come here, now. Now, now, now. And bring as many antibiotics as you can. Now._

And thu he's left alone. And because he doesn't have much to do to keep himself entertained until Finn comes back (playing Xbox games alone is _lame_), he kind of ends up looking around the place.

Which of course leads him to Kurt's bedroom.

Everything in that room is either black or white, with the memorable exception of a dark red trash bin that lies innocently next to the bed. It is filled to the brim with brightly colored sheets of paper that are almost artfully rumpled.

He lets curiosity get the best of him and procceeds to unfold one of them (a deep purple one that seems to be the crown to the whole arrangement). It holds the following words:

_absence trial deterrent anxiety craving__ useless_

_This is not helping much, I should tell h__er._

After that, something akin to apprehensiveness rushes through him, from his feet to his head, and making him feel a fierce need to know what that was about. Because, whatever it was, it wasn't nice.

The next paper ball he grabs is an unsettling stark white one. It hangs near one of the bim's rims, as if it were contemplating the perils of falling to the floor (none). It says:

_Today's been better._

'_Today's been better' means that I managed to get home in one piece._

_My shoulders hurt a bit, and my arms look like someone's poured grape flavored slushie in my very vein__s and it kept trying to seep out through all the layers. But those will fade away._

_What won't fade away is this __bottomless panic. Everything startles me, Loud noises, shadows, anything that comes suddenly._

_I'm a mess. Tina says I've lost weight. I just..._

_I just wish I knew what he'__s thinking, so I could brace myself for whatever he is building all this sick tension for._

The note is written in a wobbly handwriting that makes Puck feel as much unease as the words themselves, which were disqueting enough all on their own.

Yellow. _My analyst keeps telling me to write. To write so I can let all these things that I don't find myself willing to share with anybody else out. To write so I can work out the words that I want to use with her._

_I really don't know what to write. I'm not a writer. I'm a performer. Writing is too quiet for me._

Blue. _I'm closer to snaping than I've ever been. I can feel it on my muscles. They are sore in a way that isn't the exhilarating one that comes from working out. I can feel it on the dull ache on my jaw and teeth (from their constant tightness)._

_I pity myself, riigth now. This is what I never wanted to become. A scared little thing that could be __ dispatched with a simple well-placed breathe.._

_Pathetic._

Red. _He kissed me. He kissed me. He kissed me. He kissed me. He kissed me. He kissed me. He kissed me. He kissed me. _(The words get more desperate each time, even through a paper sheet, it's quite clear.)

_I feel unclean, and scared, and I want someone to tell me that it didn't happen, but my wrist hurts from pushing him away, and my cheek__s are starting to bruise from where he grabbed me too forcefully._

The last one he reads (already feeling a myriad of upsetting emotions that gnaw at his throat and stomach like some powerful acid) is purple like the first one.

_I think I need help_.

When Finn comes back from Rachel's place (in one piece), Puck is lying on his bed, looking like he's been right there all the time, just staring at Finn's boring ceiling.

They play some Xbox games and talk about asinine stuff that seems to mostly consist of boobs and their respective owners for a few hours, before Puck gets a text from Sarah who needs him to go get her from a friend's house.

He doesn't tell anyone, because it's not his place to do so (everything inside him tells him _screw your place and do something, man. This is some serious shit_).

A few weeks later, just after the Hummel-Hudson wedding, Kurt transfers to Dalton, without saying anything to anyone. One day he's there, and the other he isn't. The only ones who seem to know are Finn and Aretha, but for once in their life they're keeping their mouths shut (they look worn out enough that nobody asks them whatever questions are brewing inside their minds).

Puck hates every single person who walks the halls of McKinley, including himself.

He wishes he had at least read every single note, so he could know who this son of a bitch was and kill him. Kill him for being a sick fuck, and the reason everyone in Glee –including him- walks around like somebody who's missing a most crucial limb.

He keeps an eye open for the guy.

(He misses unspeakable things like quirks, he misses courage and wittiness, he misses the gyrating hips and the curling lips. He misses all the chances he's ever wasted, all the things everyone could've done differently; including Kurt.)


End file.
